“Dying souls and bleeding hearts strewn across the field: some young, some old, all hoping salvation would come before the final breath escapes them.” She whispered, standing ramrod straight with her gaze firmly fixed on the painting.
“That’s what I see.” She concluded
Shaking his head in dismay and amusement “Why does everything have to be about death? I’m starting to think you’re a fatalistic person, a sexy fatalistic person.”
“Well I might be …”
Truth was she was a softie, scared to open her heart to love again. Everything died, everything including love: it wasn’t death that she was afraid of that ultimately has to happen, it was the mourning period and recovery that worried her. How many times do you go through that before you become fatalistic?
“… now it’s your turn, tell me what you see Mr optimistic.”
“I see love blossoming in a field of hope, danger, sexuality, anger, romance, joy and most importantly passion.… pulling her that bit closer he continued … I see a tree of love shedding leaves of negativity, making room for a fresh set of love buds to blossom.” He whispered the last words into her ears, they were meant solely for her.
Oh God, this was going to be hard to shake off: there was no way her heart would survive mourning him, if she ever lost him. She had to end this now before … she was already in too deep.
He smiled as he sensed her turmoil, she didn’t know it yet, but he was here to stay. They would plant that tree and watch it grow old together.